


21

by missdibley



Series: Oh My Oakley [10]
Category: Magnus Martinsson - Fandom, Oakley (Unrelated) - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Unrelated (2007), Wallander (UK TV), Wallander - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Chicago, F/M, Feels, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 07:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4597464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oakley and Helen are missing each other on her 21st birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	21

There is a moment, between sleep and wakefulness, when I get up in the morning, when I can feel him. The big to my little (I’m not a small girl but Oakley is a tall boy), he is curled around me, one arm bent to cradle his head while the other is draped around my hips or belly. I can hear him snoring gently into my hair, feel the press of his lips on the nape of my neck when he nuzzles me. His morning erection is a welcome temptation, pressed against the swell of my ass. It’s when I start moving, try to turn to him with a kiss, or slip my hand down my side before it reaches for him that I awake and find myself alone in my apartment.

Before I can get back to sleep, so I can chase that moment, my phone rings from its spot next to my pillow. It’s 7:00 in the morning on a Saturday. Nobody calls me that early. Nobody except him.

“Oak,” I sigh when I answer.

“Oh Helen.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Guess what?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, rub my feet together and yawn. “What?”

“It’s your birthday.”

“I know. Thank you for the reminder.”

“Did you get my present?”

I turn over to look at the brown cardboard box, still unopened, sitting on the floor next to my bed. Taped up neatly, my name and address printed carefully next to all of the English stamps and a customs label that says only that the box contains “merchandise”. “Yeah. It’s here.”

“It’s still closed, right?”

“Uh huh. So can I open it now?”

“Nope.” Oakley pops the P in the word “nope”, sounding pleased with himself when he refuses my request.

“So when can I open it?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“Boo. I’m the birthday girl! And we haven’t seen each other since last summer…”

“It’s a big year, school-wise, for both of us. Gotta buckle down.”

“I know but…”

“There’s always this summer,” Oakley speaks in a hush.

I feel a tear prick my eye. “I know. I can’t wait.”

“You. Me. A boat. The Greek islands.”

“Tell me.”

“Corfu. Mykonos. Naxos. Maybe Santorini if you’re good.”

“Okay so back to my present…” I smile when I hear Oakley’s roar, his big laugh, sounding in my ear. I always love making him laugh. I picture him with his head thrown back, curls shaking as he paces around his room at Cambridge.

“Patience, Helen.” He sighs. “Be patient.”

“I don’t know if I can…” I slip my hand to the brass oak leaf that hangs from a delicate chain around my neck, then bring it up to my lips to kiss it.

“Helen. Love. I know you can do it. We’ve been together for how many years now?”

“Like three? But it feels like it’s been  _ages_ …” I sigh, my lips curling into a smile. I pull my sheet over my head and snuggle into the mattress.

“Brat!” He laughs again. “Hold on, just going to sit down… ah, here. What are your plans for today?”

“Nothing, and I couldn’t be more excited.”

“Are you serious?”

I nod.

“Love, I don’t hear a reply so I’m going to guess that you’re nodding?”

I nod again.

“Stop nodding and answer the bloody question, woman!”

“So who’s the brat now?” I tease. “I did a shitload of work last night so I could be utterly indolent today. I just turned in a bunch of papers for mid-terms, and I watched the movies for my romance in pop culture class…”

“What were they? The movies.”

I don’t answer right away. I can’t. I just start blushing.

“Tell meeeeeeeeeeee,” he wheedles.

“Fine,” I huff. “We watched  _Behind The Green Door_  and, um,  _The Opening of Misty Beethoven_.” When I start giggling I hear Oakley moan.

“Love, you cannot tell me you watched porn and then start giggling in my ear like the minx I know you are. I am absolutely RIGID for you right now.”

“If only I were there to help you with that…” I muse.

“Guess I’ll have to watch our movie from your birthday two years ago…”

I squeal. “Pervert!”

“Hey, it wasn’t me who started the camera that night…”

“Oh yeah. I guess that was me. Huh. I wonder if I can include that with my reel if I apply to film school…”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

We’re silent, me holding my breath, and then we just guffaw. I laugh so hard I actually snort.

Oakley clears his throat. “So you watched porn. For class. Damn. And here I was, meeting with my tutor, doing more translations…”

“Can I help it if you picked the wrong major?”

“The Romans were sexy, completely obscene!”

“Translate any good smut lately, have you?”

“Ah… no. You got me there.”

We laughed together, and then he sighed. “Okay, my love. I have got to go.”

“Alright. I miss you.”

“Darling, you have no idea how much more I miss you.”

I start to cry. “Oakley… sorry, I’m gonna keep it together.”

He sniffs. “Love. Oh Helen. I love you so much. Happy birthday. I promise we’ll celebrate on our own this summer.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah. I promise.” Oakley clears his throat. “And now your song…”

“What am I getting this year?”

“You sure you don’t want the classic ‘Happy Birthday’”?

“I will happily listen to whatever you want to sing to me.”

“I know, but… it’s your birthday. It’s tradition.”

“It doesn’t have to be our tradition. You surprise me. That’s our thing. And I like it.”

“Good. I like it, too. Ready?”

“Yes, Oak.”

“Close your eyes?”

I close my eyes. “Okay. Go.” I keep my phone pressed to my right ear with my right hand, and I rest my left hand on my belly. We take a deep breath together, and then Oakley sings, his voice a little raw:

 _All I can see is black and white_  
_And white and pink with blades of blue_  
_That lay between the words I think on a page_  
_I was meaning to send to you_  
_I couldn't tell if it'd bring my heart_  
_The way I wanted when I started_  
_Writing this letter to you_

 _But if I could you know I would_  
_Just hold your hand and you'd understand_  
_I'm the man who loves you_

 _All I can be is a busy sea_  
_Of spinning wheels and hands that feel for_  
_Stones to throw and feet that run but_  
_Come back home_  
_It made no difference_  
_Ever known, it made no difference_  
_Ever known to me_

 _But if I could you know I would_  
_Just hold your hand and you'd understand_  
_I'm the man who loves you_

“Oh Oakley,” I whisper. “You sang that to me when…” I hiccup. “When you said…”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “It just came to mind.”

“I’m glad it did.” I smile at the memory of the day he told me he loved me.

“It doesn’t sound like it. I can hear you sniffling, Helen.”

“I can you hear you sniffling, too.”

“We’re a couple of crybabies. No wonder we’re together.”

“Yeah. Nobody else will have us!” I giggle. “Oakley. Thank you for being the first person to call me today…”

“You’re wel—”

“Wait!” I cry. “I’m not finished yet.” I sit up in bed and look around the room, looking for something to focus on so I can finish what I want to say to him without crying more. I find my plush Totoro, a gift from Oakley when he visited Japan with his brother, lying at my feet. I grab Totoro and deposit him in my lap.

“Oakley. Thank you for being the first person to call me today. Thank you for my present, which I wish you would let me open already…” I pause when I hear him laugh. “Thank you for laughing at my dumb jokes. Thank you for crying with me. Thank you for missing me. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for being my friend, to quote “‘The Golden Girls’. And to quote Leslie Knope from ‘Parks and Rec’, I love you… and I like you.” I stop, squeeze my eyes tight, but I can’t stop the tears from flowing. “Oh God, why can’t I stop crying?”

“Don’t ask me. I’m still crying myself,” Oakley murmurs.

“Oakley…”

“I love you, Helen.” He sniffs again. “I love you so much.”

“I know.”

“Happy birthday, baby. See you in my dreams.”

“Yeah… or maybe I’ll just send you another naughty video!”

“You’re not just saying that to stop us from crying, are you?”

“I don’t think so…”

Oakley laughs. “That’s the spirit. That’s my girl.”

* * *

I’m looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, examining my face after the hot shower I took after I went back to bed, snoozing for another hour or so until I could get out and face the day. I don’t look any different from yesterday, when I was 20. So this is what 21 looks like.

Sadly I didn’t magically lose 50 pounds overnight, so I still have my double chin, the belly, the thighs that touch and soft arms. I lean forward and focus on my heart-shaped lips, my dark eyes. When my hair dries it will be wavy and dance around my shoulders when I walk. Once I put on my favorite bra my boobs will be high and perky. I’ll wear the flared jeans with my clogs so my legs look super long.

When I step into the hallway to return to my room, I hear voices coming from the back porch. My roommate Selma’s voice is one, sweet and girlish. The other, I don’t recognize. It’s a little deeper, soothing. And then the sound of a baby laughing.

Do I even know any babies?

Still in my towel, I make my way back, through the dining room and kitchen, to the porch. Selma, seated on a folding chair, a cup of tea in her hand, smiles at me when I step out. There is a woman sitting opposite her, facing away from me, so I can’t see who she is.

Selma grins at me. “Hey Helen! Your friends are here.”

The woman turns around in her seat and smiles at me.

“Surprise! Happy birthday, Helen!”

“Halla!”

Halla laughs and stands up, and that’s when I see the toddler squirming in her arms. She leans over and kisses me on the cheek, then looks at the little one, who peeks at me shyly while she rests her head on her mother’s shoulder.

“Maggy?” Halla coaxes her in a soft voice. “Maggy, can you say hi?”

“No,” the little girl whispers before she turns away from me, nuzzling Halla’s shoulder.

Halla smiles apologetically. “She’s a little shy today.”

“Oh that’s alright.” I look down at myself. “I mean, I guess I’d be a little shy if a stranger with wet hair, dressed in a towel, came sauntering up to me…”

Selma and Halla crack up. My roommate rises from her seat. “Halla, it was so nice to meet you and Miss Maggy. Helen, I’m gonna get to the Reg. Are you sure you don’t want to do anything today?”

I nod. “Yeah. Mid-terms, everybody’s busy…”

“But it’s your birthday!”

“I know,” I say, still looking at Maggy, who yawns as she is rocked. “It’s fine. I talked to Oakley, I’m gonna take it easy.”

Selma frowns at me, concerned. “If you’re sure…”

“Yes! Now go! Study! Maybe we’ll go to Jimmy’s later…”

Selma pecks me on the cheek. “You’re the boss, birthday girl.” She winks at Maggy, who opens and closes her hand to wave goodbye, then leaves.

* * *

 

After I got dressed, Halla and I walk down Kimbark towards 57th Street. Maggy’s asleep in the stroller Halla is pushing. We turn the corner, head east to the Med. It’s not busy yet, as it’s not quite 10:00, so we’re able to get a four-person booth, far from the noise of the big juicer where diners line up for all-you-can-squeeze all-you-can-drink orange juice. Halla pulls the hood of the stroller over Maggy, adding a blanket for extra cover, then we get settled and order breakfast.

“Oh mid-terms…” Halla says wistfully as she winds the paper sleeve from a straw around her index finger. “You done with yours?”

I nod. “Yeah. Just papers. Two for Lauren Kiehl, as I’m taking two classes with her this quarter.”

“Yes!” Helen grins. “I love her. She’s so great, and her hair is the best.”

“Totally! Her romance in pop culture class is my favorite.”

“Good! Did you do the team project yet?”

I shake my head. “No, but it’s coming up, right before finals. What did you do for yours?”

Halla smirks. “I set up a kissing booth with my friend Mike.”

My jaw drops. “Noooo!”

Halla nods. “In Cobb coffee shop.”

I hoot, then check the stroller to make sure I hadn’t woken Maggy up. “How did it go?”

“Really well! We put up a menu with prices, then sold our kisses on a Friday afternoon. We charged men more than women, and we donated the proceeds to charity.”

“Awesome,” I sigh. I smile, and Halla smiles back. “Okay… so Maggy? She’s adorable.”

“Thanks.” Halla looks at the stroller, then back at me. “She’s pretty great. She was so excited when we got to your apartment. Not sure why she was so shy with you, though.”

I shrug. “She’s a baby. I’ll let this one slide.”

We laugh, then I see Halla’s eyes light up as our food arrives. We sit in comfortable silence, me devouring my breakfast burrito while Halla gracefully eats her eggs espresso (which are just scrambled eggs but the scrambling is done with the espresso machine so they’re super fluffy) and looks at me closely.

“What?” I put my burrito down and take a sip of coffee.

“How’s Oakley?” She reaches out and puts her hand over mine when I look down for a second.

“He’s good. Really good. He’s almost done at Cambridge. His parents are giving him, giving us, a trip to Greece for graduation.”

“Oh, Helen, that sounds amazing. Are you going to the ceremony?”

I nod. “Yeah. It’s the end of June, after spring quarter ends here. I fly over, he graduates, we visit with his family for a bit, then off we go for, like, the entire month of July.”

“Wonderful. Just wonderful.”

“Yeah. I can’t believe it. His parents… I mean, his dad is still kind of a dick. But they’ve been kind to me. His mom, especially.”

“That’s great, Helen. Of course they’d be nice to you. They know how important you are to him.”

“I know,” I say softly. I wipe my eyes, then jump a little when I hear a sound come from the stroller.

“Oooooh…” Halla coos as she removes the blanket the pushes the hood back. Maggy squints at us, blinking at the sunlight that floods the room through the windows above us. She reaches for Halla, who sweeps her into her arms for a hug and a cuddle. Maggy squeals, then pushes herself into a standing position on the bench seat. She takes a handful of eggs, then drops it back onto the plate. Halla wipes Maggy’s hand with a napkin, then peppers her cheek with kisses. The baby looks at me and leans forward, her arms outstretched.

“What… do I…” I look at Halla, who grasps Maggy firmly around her hips then lifts her daughter over the table. I get up a little to her, then sink back down, baby at my side. I look at her. “Hi Maggy.”

“Hi!” She chirps. “Hi!” She reaches out and pats my cheek, then covers my mouth. I kiss her fingers and she laughs.

“Hi!” I say again. I look over at Halla, who is giggling. She takes a picture of us with her iPhone, murmuring to herself “He’s gonna love this…”

“Who, Magnus?” I ask.

“Uh, sure!” Halla straightens up. “Speak of the devil…”

“Hello, ladies.” I look up in time to see Magnus standing next to the stroller. He smiles down at Maggy, who jumps a little and reaches up for him. I help her turn so her father can pick her up for a hug and a kiss.

“Happy birthday, Helen.” Magnus reaches into his pocket and withdraws a bright pink envelope. He places it in front of me before sitting and kissing Halla hello.

“Thanks, Magnus.” My breath hitches a little as I look at him. His hair is shorter, and his jaw is broader, but the resemblance to Oakley is so strong I feel an ache.

“Should I?” Magnus nods so I open the envelope. I wave it at Maggy, who grabs it in her tiny fist then waves it around like a flag.

In my hand I hold a postcard, which is heavy and made of a plain white cardstock. It’s blank. I flip it over, gasping when I read the words scrawled on it in black ink:  **YOU’RE IT**

Magnus and Halla play dumb about the card, all the way through the meal and on the walk back to my apartment. My whining is of great amusement to the two of them.

“But whyyyyyyyy?” I plead.

“Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!” Maggy parrots me from her stroller. I pretend to pout at her and she hides under her blanket. When she peeks out I say “Boo!” and she shrieks with delight.

“You know something! Something to do with Oakley!” I show them the card again. “Where did the card come from?”

Magnus shrugs, his blue eyes sparkling. “No idea.”

“Ugh!” I stomp my foot.

Halla laughs. “Why don’t you just call him?”

“I didn’t want to do it while we were having breakfast,” I mutter. “Didn’t want to be rude.”

“Well, we’re off, so now’s probably a good time to do it.” Halla pulls me into her arms for a hug, and I smile as I feel her press her lips to my cheek. “Have a good day, birthday girl.” She stands back so Magnus can hug me. As he’s hugging me, two questions come to mind. I back out of the hug and look at them closely.

“Magnus? Did Halla text you a picture of me and Maggy before you joined us at the Med?”

“No. I mean, yes!” He sputters, then flushes. I laugh when Halla punches his arm.

I turn to look at her. “Halla? How did you know where I live?”

Halla bites her lip. “I’ve dropped you off before! I mean, I know it’s been a while…”

“Yeah,” I reply. “Last year, before Maggy was born.” I pause. “When I still lived in a dorm. Three blocks from here.”

Halla’s eyes get big and round, but she doesn’t flinch as I stare at her. Before I can grill her more, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I pick it up and discover a text:  **you can open that box now**

I look up to find Magnus and Halla, arms wrapped around each other, looking relieved. I scowl as they pull me into a big hug.

“You’re not off the hook but I have to go open my present now. My present from Oak—”

“OH!” Maggy squeaks. I look down to find her waving at me and grinning. “OH! OH!”

“I bet Maggy would tell me what was going on…” I mutter as Magnus as takes the stroller, and Halla slips her arm around his waist.

“Happy birthday Helen!” Halla sings over her shoulder as they walk down the street. “Have fun tonight!”

Before I run upstairs and get to that box, I watch them stop and peek inside the stroller. Halla bends down to take the baby into her arms, laughing gently when the girl tries to put her fingers in her mouth. Maggy settles for snuggling into Halla’s chest while Magnus folds up the stroller. Before they continue, he looks down at her, down at them, and says something I can’t hear. Wrapping an arm around Halla, he kisses her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her lips. They stand like that, completely still, for a beat, then two, then three, just kissing like there’s nobody else. It’ just the three of them. Magnus breaks the kiss, then grins when Halla reaches up and touches his face. Stroller in one hand, he slips his free arm around his shoulders, and they keep walking, cooing at Maggy. I wait until I can’t see them anymore, then run upstairs to open my present.

* * *

 

The cardboard box contains another box, a shoebox, which I opened carefully before I remove its contents and place the following items carefully on the floor in my room:

  * a keytag that is identical to the one I got with my room key when I was in Oxford the summer I met Oakley, engraved with my old room number one side and my initials on the other
  * a brass heart, identical to the lock at the flat we rented when we went to Dublin
  * two boxes of my favorite tea, the Queen Anne blend from Fortnum & Mason
  * a brass locket with the constellation representing my astrological sign engraved into it, with tiny crystals marking the positions of each star
  * an index card with his mother’s recipe for Pimm’s cup
  * a funny card from his brother Kit
  * a pink plastic tiara that has “21” on it in rhinestones



I put on the tiara, then get on my laptop to try to Facetime with Oakley. He doesn’t reply, but I get a text:

naptime, princess. it’s going to be a long night.

I crawl into bed and stare at the ceiling, my phone in my hand. I type out a reply: 

> how are we playing tag if we’re not in the same place?
> 
> _that was just to let you know I was thinking of u, how we love 2 play_
> 
> magnus and the card?
> 
> _sent it to him_
> 
> he pretended like he didn’t know
> 
> _maybe he forgot? he’s awfully old_
> 
> he and halla are like 40
> 
> _u old magnus lol_
> 
> whatevs mags is hotttttt
> 
> _watch it_
> 
> what - u gonna spank me from 4000 miles?
> 
> _fuck…._
> 
> serves u right
> 
> _when we get to Greece ur going 2 be in so much trouble_
> 
> promise?
> 
> _UNF_

* * *

Selma drags me and our friends to Jimmy’s for supper, where we celebrate my birthday with cheeseburgers and endless fries. I chase it all with sloe gin fizzes and glasses of tap water, scowling whenever somebody takes a picture of me wearing my tiara.

“Selma? Do you know what’s going on? With Oakley?”

My roommate arches a perfectly pencilled eyebrow at me. “I have been telling you all afternoon, no! I’ve never even met him.”

“Methinks the roommate doth protest too much.” I lean forward and slurp my drink through a straw.

Selma rolls her eyes. “Whatever, dork. Look, I’m sorry Oakley isn’t here, but I think he did a nice job with the card, and the presents. Tweaked you a little from across the pond.”

“I guess.” I finish my drink and sit up. “Okay, so what next?”

Our neighbor Charlie comes back from the bar with a pitcher of Leinenkugel Red and a flyer in his hand. “Ladies! Gentlemen!” He bows to the table. “Our plans for the evening!” He slams the flyer down in the middle of the table so we can all see what it says:

**THE BROTHERS OF AEPI INVITE YOU TO THE LASCIVIOUS COSTUME BALL**

“Nooooooooooo!” I cry.

“Yessssssssssss!” My friends all yell, earning us a stern look from the bartender.

Charlie puts the pitcher down in front of me, drops a straw in it, and grins. “Sorry, Helen.” He kisses the top of my head. “The tribe has spoken, and we are going to go fuck it up with AEPi tonight.”

“But I don’t have anything to wear,” I say lamely.

Selma laughs. “But that’s the whole point. The less you wear, the less you pay.”

“Oh fuck me…” I groan, then reach for the pitcher of beer.

* * *

 

The loud house music that greets us when we arrive at the LCB makes me forget that I am wearing little more than a windsock. It’s a black, semi-sheer slipdress I borrowed from Selma. Still wearing the birthday tiara, I am greeted with cheers and bear hugs from the brothers I know. Their parties are always fun, mostly because the guys remain sober so their guests can enjoy themselves safely. So I feel fine in my skimpy outfit, drinking a beer pumped right out of a fresh keg in front of my eyes. I head to the living room where the dancefloor is set up.

My friends and I dance, sing along to the music, and enjoy ourselves. I had managed to sober up between supper and the party, and I decide to stay that way. This is a good night, and I want to remember everything.

The music stops and when people start to protest the DJ says goodnaturedly through the microphone “SHUT UP YOU JERKS WE HAVE A THING WE HAVE TO DO.” That’s when I fall back into a chair, pulled into it by Selma. She squeezes my shoulder and kisses my cheek before standing behind me. The crowd makes a circle in front of me, and I am filled with a sense of dread. I hate being the center of attention, but being the birthday girl, I am resigned to it and steel myself for whatever shenanigans these dudes are going to pull.

My friend Josh, vice president of the frat and a really decent guy, approaches me. He stands there, smirking while I laugh at the Chicago flag themed banana hammock he’s wearing with his Sperry boat shoes. He kneels down next to me and smiles.

“It’s gonna get pretty racy here, Helen. You cool with that?”

“What does ‘pretty racy’ mean, Josh?”

“You seen Magic Mike?” He waits for me to nod. “Okay, so like that, but without the talent.”

“Sure!” I cry, laughing in my seat. “Do your worst!”

Josh pops up and joins the DJ behind his laptop and turntables. Ginuwine’s “Pony” starts playing because of course it does, and I am treated to the sight of AEPi’s pledge class sauntering out in neon green booty shorts. Their pledges are different shapes and sizes, and they all look absurd under the strobe lights. The dance is more about them being as ridiculous as possible, with only the occasional pledge coming close to wiggle his ass in my face or let me push a dollar bill into his shorts. By the time the song is over, everybody is howling with laughter, cheering for their friends in the pledge class who take their bows before dispersing into the crowd.

I start to get up from my seat when I feel Selma squeeze my shoulder. “Not yet.”

Josh gets on the microphone. “Hey everybody, we gotta serenade the birthday girl!” He counts off and I am assaulted by the sound of a few hundred people screaming “Happy Birthday”. I can only shake my head, hug myself tight when I see the pledges push an oversized pop-up cake, the kind that strippers burst out of, into the middle of the dancefloor.

Selma pushes me forward so I’m standing right next to the cake as the song finishes. Josh appears at my side, hugging me as I turn to look up at him.

“So which sad pledge did you convince to get into this thing?”

“You’ll see!” Josh sang.

I turn around just as the top layer breaks up, getting frosting all over me as its occupant leaps out and takes me in his arms. It isn’t a pledge.

It’s Oakley.

I don’t cry, I just wrap my arms tight around him and bury my face in his chest. He whispers into the top of my head, cooing “There there, love” and “I love you”, and they’re the sweetest sounds I’ve ever heard. People are saying “Aw!” and cheering then they start talking as the music comes back up. I’m covered in whipped cream and it smells gross but it’s mixed with Oakley’s cologne and a little sweat and I want this moment to last forever. I look up at him, see the face that I love, and laugh softly when he kisses me. First tenderly, then deeply. He tastes sweet.

I look down and notice he’s wearing running shorts and Vans. I snort. “What, no thong?”

Oakley laughs. “I’m saving that for later.”

* * *

 

We are walking back to my place, taking 56th Street as it’s quiet, pretty with its stately houses and ivy-covered apartment buildings. It’s just before 11:00pm, and we’re both wearing borrowed sweatshirts over our cream-covered outfits. He’s got a backpack slung over his shoulder. I can smell the first lilacs of the season blooming in the dark. I squeeze Oakley’s hand, and he squeezes it right back.

“When did you get here?”

“Yesterday morning.” He kisses my temple.

“Who’d you stay with?” I look up at him. “Magnus…”

“And Halla, yeah.” He nods, then smiles as he touches my face. “Maggy’s great, isn’t she?”

“She gave you away, you know. She said your name a bunch of times.”

Oakley shakes his head. “Dammit.”

I laugh. “She’s a terrible accomplice. I’m not sure Halla and Magnus did much better. But it was nice to see them.”

When we get to my building I am startled to see Oakley pull a key out of his pocket and open the door. I let him pull me up the stairs, where he takes another key and unlocks the door to my apartment, before I say anything.

“Selma?”

Oakley nods. “She got me a set of keys this afternoon.”

“You met her at the Reg?” When Oakley nods I smirk. “I knew she lied. She never studies there.”

“So why didn’t you say anything?”

I shrug. “I think I was too excited to see Halla and Maggy.”

Oakley opens the door, and he leads me in. Before I can turn on the lights, Oakley takes my hand and kisses it.

“Bath time.”

Oakley and I go straight to the bathroom, not even stopping in my bedroom to discard our clothes. We take our time, lying in the tub, flicking bubbles at each other, and he tells me about school. His last term doesn’t start for another week, so he can stay for a few days until he has to go back.

“Are you excited? About graduating?” I am leaning against Oakley, my back to his chest. He tightens his embrace around my shoulders.

“Yes. I think so. Though I really love school so I think graduate school is going to happen.”

“I’m so proud. But you’re still going to do that gap year, right?”

“Of course. I didn’t do it before uni, and I’m glad I didn’t. It’s good that I waited. Gave me some time to think about what I’m going to do.”

“What were you thinking?”

“Maybe teaching English in Asia, like Korea or China. At least for a few months, then move onto Africa or South America, try to find some service projects.”

I sigh. “You’re gonna be great.”

“You always say that.”

I turn around and look at him. “Yeah. I always say that because it’s true. Because I believe in you. And I always will.”

“Promise?” Oakley kisses my back.

“Yeah,” I nod. “Promise.”

When the water is lukewarm, we empty the tub and rinse off in the shower. I find Oakley an old robe in the cupboard, helping him put it on, before I find my own robe and get into it.

It’s a short but slow walk down the hall to my bedroom. I feel something, a flutter in my belly, when I notice the door to my room is closed.

“I don’t remember closing my door when we left earlier.” I touch the knob.

“Maybe Selma closed it?”

I shake my head. “No.” I look up at Oakley to find his eyes are full of tears. “Oak?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s going on?”

“This.” Oakley places his hand on mine, and together we twist the knob and open the door.

“Oh my god.”

My room has been transformed. The shades are pulled down over the two windows, both of them covered with large print-outs of views that I recognize immediately. The first is the view from my room at Pembroke College, where I was housed the summer we met. We spent so much time in that little drafty room. The other view is of the Eiffel Tower, the view from the plaza where Oakley found me, where he had chased me, sang to me, then told me that he loved me. My bed is the same, made up with the same white sheets, but at it’s foot there is a side table. It is covered with electric tea lights that flicker. I can hear Joni Mitchell singing “You Turn Me On, I’m A Radio” from an iPod and speakers set up next to them.

The hardwood floor is covered with a soft green shag rug, like the grass on the Pembroke quad, with a patch of flowers in the far corner near the windows and a small potted tree. When I look up, I see stars and clouds that move, projections from a lamp on my nightstand. I step into the center of the room and spin around as I look at the ceiling. It’s more than beautiful. It’s magic.

“Love.”

I hear Oakley’s voice behind me. I wipe my eyes before I turn to face him. I needn’t have bothered, because when I turn around I find him kneeling on the floor. I burst into tears again. He looks so nervous, his eyes wide and his bottom lip quivering. I drop to my knees in front of him, bury my face in my hands, sob harder when I feel his arms around me. We straighten up, and I wrap my arms around him, squeezing him tight when he kisses me gently on the lips. He nuzzles my cheek.

“Helen.”

I sniff then turn my face so we’re looking at each other.

“Yes?”

Oakley gazes at me, into my eyes, and I swear that time actually stops.

I see my life run backwards, from this moment all the way back to the first time I saw him. It was in the dining hall, and I was cracking jokes with some kids from Chicago. Oakley had an annoyed look on his face. He was frowning at the back of Madeline George who was strutting away from his table like the cat who’d just eaten the canary. His frown made me laugh, really hard, because he looks so cute when he’s pissed off. I thought our eyes met when I was doubled over, laughing like a goofball. But I dismissed it, thinking it was just the glare of the sunlight shining through the windows. So I went back to my conversation, tried to forget about it, tried to forget about him. But he wouldn’t go away. There he was in my history elective, and there he went again at meals, surrounded by kids hanging on his every word. And then there he was, on a dark, sticky night, plopping on the grass next to me, telling me he had noticed me in that moment. Telling me he wanted to know me. Telling me he liked me, and that he was glad I was there.

From there my life runs forward, through that week when we fell in love. Then through the fall when we went back to school, a reunion in New York for his birthday that winter, Dublin in the spring, summer in Chicago when we sublet Halla’s apartment, Christmas break in London with his family, then summer in Italy, and then this moment. Wrapped in each other’s arms, wearing goofy bathrobes in my apartment, and crying.

He is not perfect. But it’s like stupid bullshit things, guy things. We fight. We have off days. We have a lot of growing up to do. But the thing is… I can’t imagine doing this with anybody but him. He makes me so happy. And I know, I’ve known for a long time, that I make him happy, too. His is the face I want to see. His are the hands I want to hold. His is the laugh I want to hear. For the rest of my life.

Oakley carefully loosens my left arm, taking my hand in his so he can slip a ring on my finger. I look down to see a round diamond set in a rose gold band. The diamond is flanked by two tiny oak leaves. Of course. I look up, wipe a tear from his cheek.

“Helen Teresa Dean.”

When he says my name like that, reverently, it sounds so beautiful.

“Helen, I love you.” He takes a deep breath. Will you marry me?”

I look in his eyes, smile, then kiss him. I want to whisper my answer in his ear but I know I can’t do that and look at his sweet face at the same time. I break the kiss, press his fingertips to my lips, then whisper my reply.

“Thomas William Oakley, I love you and yes,” I nod as he cups my face in his hands. “Oh my god, yes. Yes, I will marry you.”

**Author's Note:**

> The eggs espresso are a real thing and they are delicious.
> 
> The LCB is also a real thing. Alas it is not delicious unless you are into sweaty half-naked college students.
> 
> I tried to find pictures of acorns made of diamonds as inspiration for Helen’s ring but was not successful.


End file.
